Harry Potter: Strength
by dripley11
Summary: A four-year-old Harry took the spell that fateful night, saving his sister and mother. He met the Master of Death, who gave him a chance and the tools to win the war once and for all. The Triwizard Tournament approaches, and Voldemort's return with it. With allies, family, and friends, he arms for war. Harry now seeks the strength to protect his family and be the one left standing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

 _Green was all he saw._

Green eyes opened to somewhere he didn't recognize. It looked like a train station, as there were large stone columns spread throughout the area. However, everything was white in every direction.

It was like every other color had been sapped from the world.

Four year old Harry Potter looked around, lost. "Where…Where am I?" He twisted around, panic setting in. "Mum! Dad!" he yelled. "Where are you!?"

"They're not here."

He whirled around and spotted someone. This new man looked startlingly like Harry's father. He was about the same size as James Potter, standing near two meters tall. He had the same shaggy black hair that Harry shared with his father. There was only one noticeable difference.

The eyes. The man's eyes were just like his mother's.

Young Harry shied away from this new presence. He scampered behind the nearest pillar to hide. The other man didn't chase after him, so he peeked back around the corner. Harry then asked, "Who...Who are you?"

The man smiled kindly. His face looked youthful but seemed to hold ages of experience. He kneeled so he was at Harry's eye level. "I'm someone who knows you," he answered. "Better than anyone."

"But… But I don't know you."

Again, he smiled. He reached up and brushed aside his hair, revealing a faded lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. "It's a little complicated, but I promise you'll know who I am one day. For now, I'm your friend."

Harry didn't know why, but he felt… _something_ that connected the two of them. He came out from behind the pillar, nervously wringing his hands over his stomach. That same something was telling him he could trust this person, so he asked, "Where am I? What happened to Mum and Dad? Why am I alone?" He sniffled once.

The last thing his dad had told him was to stay strong, so he would. Harry wouldn't cry. No matter what, he'd stay strong.

The man's smile went sad – like when James had talked about Uncle Lupin. He asked, "What's the last thing you remember?"

"The bad man," Harry responded immediately. That serpentine face was not one he would ever forget. "He was gonna' hurt Mum and Jasmine. I didn't let him."

"No. You didn't." The man stood. "You were brave to do that."

"I…" Harry tried to remember what had happened next, but it was hazy. It was like he was trying to grab something that he knew was there but couldn't see in the fog. "I think it was green?" He looked up at the man, sad he couldn't say more.

"It was." The man nodded sadly. "You saved your mum and your sister from that bad man, but…" he trailed off, uncertain how to continue. "But the bad man still hurt them."

"But you said I saved them!" Harry protested.

"You did. But…" He exhaled. The man ran his hand down his face, a resigned look present. "There's no easy way to say this, Harry – god, that feels weird to say out loud now matter how many times I do."

Harry tilted his head curiously. This man wasn't making sense to him.

"You're dead, Harry," he finally told him. "Voldemort – or Riddle, rather – killed you when you protected Mum."

Harry froze. He barely registered the words for a few seconds. _That…can't…_ he thought. He looked around again, once more taking in the setting. "But…" His voice cracked. "Am I really…"

"Yes. I'm sorry." The man walked to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

For some reason, that same something from earlier seemed to calm Harry down. He wanted to shout, but that something wouldn't let him. He wanted to cry, but his Dad's last words wouldn't let him. He had so many emotions raging through him simultaneously that nothing could take over. In some ways, because of this, he was almost numb to this discovery.

The man squeezed his shoulder, making him look up. The man said, "This is the entrance to the afterlife."

That made him look around at everything once more. "A train station?" he asked in disbelief. He hadn't thought about the afterlife before, but he thought the entrance would be something… _more_.

"Not necessarily." The man let go and walked to a bench that Harry could swear wasn't there a second ago. He sat down and informed him, "I call this place 'The Waiting Room'. It looks different depending on the person. At times, it's Kings Cross Station – like now. That's what it usually is for us, though I've seen the Gryffindor Common Room used every once in a while. He looked around with a sad look in his eyes. "I think this is just our default setting."

"Huh?" None of that made any sense to him.

The man chuckled once, a grin tugging at his lips. "I forget how young you are. I haven't met one as young as you before." He waved his hand and a pair of drinking glasses appeared. He set one next to him on the bench and pulled an amber bottle seemingly from the air. He filled his own and downed it with a single gulp. "The last one deserves a double," he murmured, wiping his lips.

Young Harry walked over to the bench, looking at the man oddly. "You're weird," he at last said.

The man let out a few chortles. "You're not the first to say that, though you are the last." He stood up. He downed his glass again and tossed the now-empty bottle onto the train tracks. Though there was no sound of glass breaking.

"Litterbug!" Harry pointed and yelled. His mother had all but beaten it into his head how littering was bad, so there was no way he'd let someone get away with it.

The man gave him a brief glance before bursting into hysterical laughter. The laugh was so loud that it was like he hadn't laughed in years. Harry just stared at the man, uncertain how to react.

The man soon calmed down. He now stood with more mirth than Harry could understand being present. "Sorry," he said between giggles. "I haven't been taken to task in a _long_ time, and the fact _I'm_ the one who did it is just too funny."

Harry tilted his head, uncomprehending. "You are weird," he repeated.

"You'll understand why when you're older." The man waved his hand in front of him and everything around them turned to black.

Harry gasped, taking a step back. He whirled around, wondering what had just happened. No matter where he looked, there was only unfathomable emptiness. It was as if nothing but him and the other man existed in the abyss.

"Harry." All humor was now gone from the man's face. The seriousness was intimidating to the young boy. "I need you to listen closely. I want you to promise me that you'll remember everything I'm about to tell you. I can even guarantee you will if you make that promise."

Harry gulped. He didn't know what had changed – for either the setting or the man – but that something again was nearly screaming at him to listen and do as he's told. Harry nodded.

"You need to say it."

He gulped again. Harry stammered, "I-I promise." A strange sensation enveloped him, making the hairs on his arms stand up straight. It was like something new had wrapped itself across his insides and refused to let go, though it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

The man nodded. "Good." He held out his hand and a strange green energy mass appeared over his palm. "This is the soul shard Voldemort lost when he hit you with his curse. Normally, it would find the nearest magical vessel to latch onto. In many worlds, that winds up being your sister. In some others, your mother. That won't happen this time. This time, it's staying with you."

Harry didn't understand everything being said, but the thought of that green…thing inside his family made his skin crawl. However, that same something was telling him to not say anything yet, so he listened to it and then the man again.

The man continued, "Death hasn't been pleased with me as her Master as of late. She did something that's nearly severed my connection with her. I can feel that, after I help you, she'll be able to overtake me." He grinned. "But I don't plan on letting her. You see, I've come up with an idea that helps all of us – you the most."

He held out his other hand now. This one had two energies like the one in his other hand, but these were both different colors. One was startlingly gold; the other bright red. The man then continued, "The gold one is a fragment of my living soul, and the red one here is your own soul. You see, I've learned quite a lot about souls since I became Death's Master.

"Now," he said, "I can even manipulate them a little. I can even do this." Harry watched, amazed, as the red and gold energies seemed to merge together. The finished mass retained the red's primary color, though it was now larger and much brighter and had a few streaks of gold mixed in.

The man's smile was so large it practically split his face. "Just as I thought!" he exclaimed. "What I'm doing," he explained to Harry, "is merging my own living soul, with all its knowledge and experiences, with yours. That means you'll gain everything I knew while I was alive. Unfortunately, everything afterward is impossible, and the reasons for that are extremely complicated so I won't go into them.

"Something I've noticed though," he said and held the green energy next to the red one, "is that the Voldemort in your world is obscenely overpowered. Even with my old soul, yours is barely putting out more energy than Tom's here, and this is just a tiny fragment. I can only imagine how strong he is at full strength. He could probably be the only one to legitimately escape death.

"Your soul will likely develop as far as mine at least, and even that wouldn't be enough to stop him. I suppose Fate decided it was finally his turn to win one, but I've never been one to let that old hag get her way. So I'm going to do what I do best," he said with a mischievous grin. "Meddle."

The man at last closed his eyes, concentrating hard. Both energies lifted from his hands and hovered toward one another. A few indiscernible words came from the man, and the energies began to circle one another like two enemies sizing each other up. With another unknown word, the energies rushed at one another, meeting in the center.

A bright flash erupted at the collision point so bright that Harry had to look away or risk being blinded. A few minutes passed before Harry felt it was safe to look again. When he did, he gasped in awe at the sight.

The two masses had combined into a shape that resembled a gemstone. It still flowed like water in the air, but now it seemed to have a sort-of frame that kept it in the same general shape. It had hundreds of individual faces that rolled and coiled upon themselves. Red was still the primary color and gold streaks were still there, but there was now a mixture of green and silver that seemed to slither across the surface.

The man exhaled, seemingly exhausted. "It's done." He called the energy back to his hand. It heeded his call, though it seemed almost reluctant to do so. His grin reappeared. "Now you should be able to put up a fight that'll knock their socks off. I wish I could be there to see it."

The man walked over to him and kneeled once more. "Now it won't leech off you. Now, it's going to be a part of you. I expect there to be some…effects, but I doubt you'll change that much." He explained, "You won't get all of the benefits at once, unfortunately, as letting him and me loose when you're this young would probably break your mind. Instead, I built in a trickle system.

"Over time, you'll gain everything from both of us. At what rate, I can't say, as that will all depend on you. The spell I've cast will only give you the information that your mind can handle at the time. It's entirely possible you'll never have everything. It's also possible that you could unlock it all before you even graduate Hogwarts. I honestly don't know. But," his eyes – so much like Harry's own – were soft like a siblings, "I have total faith you can handle it."

Harry didn't understand anything that he'd seen or heard. As best he could tell, the man had done something to what he guessed was his soul, which weirded him out something fierce. If the man could do that, he had to be really strong.

Harry's only thought: _I need to be strong like him. That's how I can keep my promise to Dad._

"Now this may sting a bit, but you'll thank me for it later. Or you may curse me with all your might when you understand just what happened here one day." The man shrugged. He then looked at the energy in his hand. His voice went solemn. "So much will depend on you…Harry. I'm sorry for forcing this on you."

He gave Harry a small, morose smile. Harry wanted to assure the man that he'd be fine, but he couldn't find his voice for some reason.

"Goodbye, Harry. I can't do anything more than this."

The man slammed his hand into Harry's small chest, right over his heart. The energy entered him, feeling both warm and freezing at the same time. A feeling of sheer elation surged through his tiny body that seemed to overtake his mind.

The last thing Harry remembered was the man's eyes. His lost thought was, _They really do look like mine._

* * *

Harry woke without any fervor.

He leaned forward, his covers whispering into a lump over his lap. He placed his hand over his eye, breathing deep to calm down.

"Again," he said to no one. "I thought I was done with this dream now."

His bedroom was larger than average though not obscenely so. It had all the necessities along with a few magical pictures of his friends and family hanging on the blue walls. Hedwig was sleeping soundly, perched on her private stand across the room. Her feathers ruffled softly with the beat of her rhythmic breathing.

Harry climbed out of his bed, tossing his sheets away in a clump in the corner of his mattress. He walked to his room's attached bathroom. With a gesture, he summoned a towel from his closet. He let it levitate in place just outside as he entered the frosted glass shower.

As the lukewarm water hit him, he let his mind wander, as he was wont to do at times – especially when that particular dream/memory came to him.

Nearly thirteen years had passed since Voldemort's attack on his family. That night forever remained burned into his mind harsher even than his forehead scar. None of the Potters had believed their secret had failed them. When they realized it had, it was too late. Voldemort had already sealed every escape route, and the Fidelius had prevented any apparation or portkeys from working.

James Potter had hidden his wife and children away. He had only told Lily that he loved her; he most likely knew those were his last words to her. He'd then kneeled, placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, and told him that he had to stay strong to protect his mother and sister. Harry's last words to his father were a promise to do whatever it took to protect their family.

The rest of the night had progressed as could be expected. James had barely engaged Voldemort before being disarmed and killed. Voldemort had then moved to where Lily, Harry, and his sister were hidden. Without a word, he'd cast the Killing Curse at Lily, who'd put herself between her children and the Dark Lord. Harry had, his promise forefront in his mind, leapt forward and took the spell for his mother.

After that, he'd awoke in what he now knew to be a pure-white King's Cross Station. Now he understood exactly what he'd experienced. He'd also figured out that he had encountered an alternate version of himself who'd also become the Master of Death. A true Master of Death. Someone who'd reached a pinnacle of magic far beyond even Voldemort's wildest dreams.

His other self had then done something beyond imagining. He'd combined Harry's own soul with two others: the other Harry's soul while he had lived his own life and the fragment of Voldemort's that had separated when his curse had backfired. Because of this, Harry was able to draw upon the knowledge, experiences, and memories of both Voldemort and his other self. This had propelled him forward at a pace no one had ever seen before.

He hadn't had total access when he awoke that fateful night, but, slowly, he'd gained what the other two souls could give him. He still couldn't be absolutely certain he had everything, and he doubted he ever would be, as he had no way to dive into his own soul to check. However, even if he didn't have everything, he was plenty capable as a wizard to face down his enemies.

"Ha-rry!" his younger sister, Jasmine Potter, yelled into his room, stealing him from his thoughts. "You alive in there!?"

"I think so!" he hollered back.

"You've used all the hot water again! Just how long have you been in there!?"

Belatedly, he looked at himself. He must have been showering for some time now, as his entire hands had pruned enough to make him look older than even Albus Dumbledore. He next realized that the water pounding his face was cold as ice, reconfirming his earlier thought.

"Sorry, Jas!" he called. "I'll replace it for you!"

"You'd better!" Jasmine then added, "Mom'll be up in a few, so make it quick! 'Cause I'll tell her it was you!"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled as he cut off the water. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel from where it hung in the air.

He quickly dried his hair, not bothering to tame it. Harry then wrapped the towel around his waist and apparated to where the hot water heater was. As they resided in a muggle penthouse, they had to handle some muggle issues at times, though magic certainly made fixing them so much easier. He placed his palm on the metal cylindrical container and, with a thought, replenished the hot water. He then apparated back to his room.

A ghostly, ephemeral-looking lioness was waiting for him there. Recognizing his sister's Patronus, he accepted the message of "Thanks!" and sent it on its way.

He shook his head, a grin tugging at his cheeks. "Jas, Jas, Jas. I told you those were supposed to only carry important messages. You can't treat them like an instant-owl."

His sister had always been that way though. Like him, Jasmine displayed a rare aptitude in spellcrafting for her age. He'd taught her almost the entire advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum already, and she was barely fourteen. She seemed to have an almost inexhaustible energy as well, though that served her both well and not at times.

She was so hyperactive at almost all times to the point she could rarely focus on something unless it interested her. As it stood, the only things that did were spellweaving and potions. Anything else and you couldn't get her to sit still for more than a minute. That was why she was at or near the top of her class in Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Potions but barely passing all her other classes, much to Lily and Hermione's consternation.

Their mother had approached Severus Snape about a possible remedy for her daughter's inattentiveness a year or so ago. He had laughed and said he saw no need, as he too cared little for the other subjects. Lily had insisted though, and he'd relented. Snape concocted a special calming draught for her, but Jasmine had a severe reaction to it, practically draining her of the energy that made her Jasmine to Harry.

Harry had then, in a calculated rage, destroyed the entire batch of medicine, because a medicine that changed his sister was no medicine at all in his mind. Snape had no issue with it, though Lily had looked at Harry sternly for a while when he explained why he'd done it. Ever since though, Lily never looked for an outside remedy for her daughter's inattentiveness, so Harry considered it a win for him.

His sister was Harry's entire world. Because of his other self's experience with loneliness, Harry knew what it felt like to be completely alone and refused to ever live with that. So Harry had sworn long ago to always be there for his family. He had turned seventeen a few weeks ago, but Jasmine always made him feel like a child again with her constant excitement. She wasn't the only one who could make him smile, but she made him smile the most.

He didn't know how to describe his relationship with Lily however. 'Complicated' was one word for it. He loved her too with all his heart, but the two of them had butted heads a number of times over many issues through the years. Harry didn't know the percentages, but they were about even on who won their arguments. Lily, unfortunately, hadn't been able to always be around when her children were growing up because she'd had to take up her own job once Voldemort disappeared.

Lily had worked as a Charmcaster and Investigator at Gringotts. Her job was similar to a Cursebreaker, but she focused on understanding spells cast on ancient artifacts that weren't designed to kill an intruder. Due to this, she would have extended absences when Harry and Jasmine were much younger. They would talk every night over the Floo Network and Lily would regale them with stories about where she was, but it wasn't the same as being there.

Lily had left Gringotts once Harry began Hogwarts six years ago. Ever since, she tried to be a constant part of both her children's lives, as the time away had wounded her as well. Jasmine had been ecstatic since it meant Mom would always be around, but Harry was used to his independence by that point. At times, Lily would intrude on something he was doing, and he had grown tired of it.

Harry had never faulted Lily for her time away, as they'd needed money until Harry could access the Potter family vault. Because of some strange goblin-wizard treaty, only an heir above a certain age could access a family vault if there was no living Lord. Sirius had tried to get Lily access through her prior marriage to James, but the goblin's laws stated a marriage was annulled once it ended—regardless of whether it was due to a partner's death or not.

Sirius hadn't been able to help that much financially either, as his family had all but cut him off once the war stopped. He avoided being completely disinherited though, so he inherited the Black Lordship upon his father's death. There had been a lengthy inheritance battle with the Malfoys, but Sirius eventually won that fight with Dumbledore's assistance. It had cost Sirius his title and benefits thereof until Jasmine's first year at Hogwarts, allowing Lucius to push certain legislation through the Wizengamot with little challenge.

A knock on his door roused Harry. "Yes?" he called.

"Are you decent?" It was his mother.

He looked at himself, still garbed in just his towel. "One moment!" He summoned his clothes from each dresser drawer and dressed. He wore a simple pair of jeans and blue t-shirt. With a gesture, he opened his door for her. "Come in."

Lily Potter entered his room. Now in her late thirties, there were a few sparse wrinkles on her brow. Her hair was still a dazzling red that not even a Weasley could compare to; it fell past her shoulders, shining in the room's light. She stood a few inches shorter than Harry, and she was wearing a grey blouse and matching pants.

Her eyes, the same green as his, took in his room. Hedwig noticed the guest and flapped over to her, hooting a warm welcome. Lily reached up and gently pet Harry's owl. "Good morning, girl," she greeted kindly. Hedwig trilled, pleased at the care Lily gave her feathers. "Is Harry ready to go?"

Hedwig gave her a negative huff. She then flew over to Harry's side and nipped at his ear.

"Ow!" He swatted at his owl without any intent to hit her, so Hedwig deftly avoided it and pecked him more. "Like I said," he protested as Hedwig hovered near. "It won't take me three seconds."

With a wave of his hand, his trunk opened and dozens of pieces of clothes all piled in neatly and properly folded. The lid then closed with a solid 'thunk'. The trunk then shrunk down to the size of a toy car and flew over to him. He caught it and put it in his front pocket.

Harry raised a taunting eyebrow at both Lily and Hedwig. "I told you," he bragged.

Hedwig rolled her eyes and returned to her poach. Lily nodded once, pleased, and told him, "We need to get moving soon. Everyone else is going to meet us at the campsite."

"Got it." Harry summoned his wand – eleven inch holly with a phoenix feather core – from his nightstand. He then transfigured a spare piece of leather into a wand holster for his wrist. He fastened it and holstered his wand. He walked to the door and asked, "Shall we?"

"Let's." Lily turned and led him out of the room, closing the door with a swish of her wand. "Sirius will be coming with us."

Harry accepted it with a nod. Sirius had patently refused to be Harry's parental figure in place of James. The man had done everything in his power to corrupt both of his godchildren, and he'd succeeded too, to Lily's constant annoyance. He'd ensured the siblings were as mischievous as they were intelligent. Lily had received many letters from Hogwarts professors about her children's pranking escapades, though Harry was always certain to never leave any definitive link that could prove it was him. She'd tried to be stern with them over it, but it always rang hollow when she lectured them with a grin on her face.

The Potter penthouse had two levels with a glass wall that gave them a breathtaking view of the London skyline. It had a very 'new millennia' overall design, with a dearth of chrome finish and glass furnishings. The upholstery was plush and usually blue, though there were a few red armchairs scattered about that came from the traditional Potter estate house.

It had been an interesting choice, Harry thought, for his mother to choose the muggle style over the traditional wizarding. But he understood and even appreciated her decision. In her own way, Lily Potter wanted her family to not become traditional wizards in the British world of magic. She wanted them to forego tradition and blaze their own path in the world.

Harry intended on doing just that.

"Oh," Lily said, her eyes lighting up as she remembered something. She pulled a letter from her pocket. "You got this in the mail today."

Harry took it from her as they reached the stairs. He looked at it, somewhat interested though he knew what it likely was. Emblazoned on the top corner of the envelope was the seal of Hogwarts. It was addressed to him, so he opened it and dumped its contents into his hand.

Out tumbled a small white badge, and Harry couldn't suppress a smile. The badge was barely an inch or two wide, but it showed its meaning with two bold letters that took up its entire face: _HB_.

"Sirius will be so disappointed," Harry quipped. "I can see it now."

"He'll need a fainting couch," Lily joked. She reached a hand around his shoulder comfortably, but she hesitated to hug him. Instead, she tapped his shoulder a few times to show her affection. Her voice beamed with pride and love for him. "I am so proud of you, Harry. I know your father would be too."

That sent a faint flutter through his chest. Because of his other self's memories, he knew how lucky he was to have his mother and sister with him, but a greedy part of him still longed for his father. It wasn't an exaggeration to say his promise with his father was still driving him. Believing James would be proud of him always made his chest swell.

He gave his mother a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Mum," he said. His hand closed over the Head Boy badge.

She returned his smile. They then lapsed into silence again as they entered the main living area. Sirius and Jasmine were sitting on separate chairs in an animated conversation about the upcoming World Cup.

The Sirius before him was similar to the one in his past self's life. He was caring, brash, mischievous, playful, and loved his godchildren with all his heart. He was healthy as an ox since he'd spent nary a day in Azkaban, unlike his former self, and his goatee was always trimmed neat too. His hair was clean and his eyes shined bright with mirth at all times of the day. He had a few scars from his career as an auror, though Sirius claimed they added to his character.

"I am not," Jasmine huffed at Sirius. She turned to her brother. "Tell him, Harry! Ireland won't win with Krum as Bulgaria's seeker. He's nabbed the Snitch in every game this season, and Ireland's seeker is piss compared to him."

Jasmine Potter, a healthy fourteen years old, was nearly the opposite of Harry in how her genes showed through. Whereas Harry looked like his father and had his mother's eyes, Jasmine looked like their mother but had James' eyes. Her hair was just as red as Lily's, though Jasmine usually pulled hers back into a ponytail while Lily let hers fall. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans with an auburn sweater and a gold-encrusted necklace Harry had given her for her last birthday. Her hazel eyes were glaring in challenge at Sirius for their confrontation.

"Well, Harry," Lily interjected. "You are the resident Quidditch expert. How do you see it playing out?"

Harry knew how it had happened in his other self's life. Ireland won by ten even though Krum had caught the Snitch. However, as he'd already learned dozens of times over, things in his world didn't always turn out the same as they did for his other self. His prior knowledge served as little more than a reference point rather than a guide.

Harry considered what he knew of both teams in his world. Ireland was notorious for their impeccable Chaser-Beater combination patterns, letting them score the Quaffle with surgical precision against everyone so far. They'd won a few times even when their Seeker, who was average as he could be, was beaten to the Snitch. Bulgaria, on the other hand, had the best Keeper in the world along with the best competing Seeker. It was rare when they were beaten for a point, so the Keeper more than made up for their lacking Chaser and Beaters. They were undefeated so far because he gave up so few points before Krum snatched the Snitch – usually within the first hour of the game.

After a moment's thought, he shrugged. "I honestly don't know," he admitted, disappointing both of them. "Krum and their Keeper is a tough combination to beat," Jasmine snarked an 'I told you so' to Sirius, "but Ireland has two of the top five Chasers and arguably the best Beater combo in the world. It really could go either way."

Sirius met Jasmine's challenging eyes with a smirk. "Okay then," he said, his voice smooth and forever lacking the rasp Harry associated with his other self's memories. "Why don't we settle this with a bet then?"

Jasmine immediately accepted. "You're on. Usual stakes?"

"Of course."

"Then I can't wait to have my personal Sirius House Elf for a day again."

"Don't count your dragons before they hatch, girlie."

"If I may," Lily interrupted their usual banter. "It's getting close to time." They both stopped. Lily asked Sirius, "Did you bring it with you?"

"Got it right here," he confirmed. He pulled out a rusty railroad spike from his bag and put it on the table. "Should start in a minute."

Lily asked, "Everyone ready to go?"

"Yes, Mum," Jasmine answered with an exhausted sigh. She then added under her breath, "You nagged us so much we couldn't forget."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, young lady," Lily replied curtly.

Sirius smirked while Jasmine tucked her head in embarrassment. Harry shook his head and reached for their railroad spike portkey. He felt a shift in the magic around the object, signifying its activation. He told them, "Time to go."

The other three then reached for the portkey at the same time. Once the last of them touched it, it activated.

With a pulling jerk like a hook behind the navel, Harry, Sirius, Jasmine, and Lily vanished from the penthouse.

* * *

 **A/N:** And I have another story. I am also alive, surprisingly enough. Let me know what you think of the premise and the chapter as a whole. I know that Alternate Universe Harry Potter has been done to death, but I'm pretty sure I have enough original ideas for this one that it warranted a chance.

For the few who noticed, yes, this is a re-write of another Harry Potter story I attempted a year or so ago. And I did delete that one. I just decided to scrap the whole thing and start over, because I loathed the beginning for that one. I'll spare you guys the details of why I hated it. Suffice to say, I thought it sucked, and that feeling didn't disappear over time like it usually does.

I'll probably update this one for a few weeks and move on to one of my others, as I have a few chapters done for this already. I might spend the entire summer in this one story, actually, as I have the first ten or so chapters fully plotted out. Though I don't know which story I'll return to first right now. Maybe my Naruto-DxD crossover, since it's been literal years since I updated that one. Although it seems people want to see my Code Geass and Naruto-Akame ga Kill stories updated more. My Underworld and Legend of Zelda (Twilight Princess setting) stories are all but abandoned, but I don't want to delete them because I do know what I want to do with them. My Bleach idea also still has a good chance of finding its way to paper and onto this site because I still feel that it's a good basic idea, though I haven't seen if someone has since stolen my thunder with it.

I suppose we'll just see what happens. I'm actually uploading this one a little early to test the waters a bit on my return. I didn't plan on releasing this until I had finished writing the entire introduction arc for this story. But, I figured, since I'm writing the last planned chapter for it, I can stand to see how this will be received.

Regards,  
dripley11


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Harry and Jasmine entered their tent. Lily and Sirius had, after their portkey trip, gone to check in with the Ministry officials overseeing the World Cup. There were thousands of tents spread throughout the field, filled with rambunctious fans for either team. On their way, Harry and Jasmine had passed a drunken brawl between an Irishman and Bulgarian that a few aurors broke up.

Their tent was magically enhanced, just like the Weasley's had been that his other self had enjoyed. This one, however, had a combination of Lily's Charm expertise and Andromeda Tonks' Transfiguration skills woven into it. It turned out that having a metamorphagous as a child teaches you a lot about altering the appearances of things.

This tent had a fully furnished, three-story interior that resembled an apartment. The upper two levels were lined with canopied, enchanted beds that maintained the occupant's privacy. There were also individual bathrooms attached to each bed that one could access through a panel on their bed's headboard. The base floor contained the kitchen and seating areas, with a few people already present as Harry entered.

There were many noticeable differences between his world and the world of his other self. His sister and mother's presence were arguably the largest, but they were not the only ones. The company that he kept now was another.

In this world, Lily was close friends with Andromeda Tonks nee Black and Iris Greengrass nee Potter—third cousin to James Potter.

Harry had looked into the scandal her romance with the prior Greengrass heir had caused, as the Potters and Greengrasses had been political enemies for centuries. When they'd married, Voldemort slew every Greengrass left in Britain in a rare show of rage. Luckily, her husband had the sense to leave the country and took refuge across the pond in America. Iris had returned a few years after Voldemort's demise with her daughters in tow – Daphne and Astoria. Unfortunately, her husband, who became the Lord by default once his father died, had succumbed to a cursed disease he'd inherited from an ancestor. His title then passed to his wife and children, who had suffered similar inheritance issues that the Potters had gone through with Gringotts.

Because of his mother's friendships, Harry had spent the majority of his childhood around both women's children. Daphne and Nymphadora Tonks in particular since – another sharp difference from his other self's memories – they both were his age. The three of them had been inseparable, and Jasmine and Astoria were the same. Daphne and Nymphadora were the only two people Harry trusted enough to talk about what he'd encountered after his 'death' that night with Voldemort. It hadn't been a perfect decade-plus with them, but Harry thought the world of the two women in his life.

"Finally!" Tonks shouted, dramatically falling deeper into the couch cushions. "Took you long enough to get here." Tonks' physical appearance was fluid because she was a metamorphagous, but she was using her 'normal' appearance at the moment. Her hair was short and bubblegum pink and her eyes were blue. She was wearing a pair of navy jeans and an unzipped leather jacket over a green t-shirt.

Her, Daphne, Astoria, and their respective mothers were sitting around a large, oval-shaped coffee table. They had a collection of cups and plates scattered on its glass top. Upon seeing their approach, Iris summoned a set for each Potter child.

"Come. Sit," the Lady Greengrass bade them over. She was a beauty the same age as Lily, though no line of stress or age marred her—Lily accused her of using magic to enhance her looks. Her hair, like Astoria's, was midnight black and fell to the center of her back. She wore a conservative jade dress that made her look like how a proper Lady should. "I see that Lily and Sirius aren't with you."

"They went to check in," Jasmine answered. She walked to where Astoria was sitting and ordered, "Budge over." She then sat and shared the seat with her best friend.

Daphne conjured a chair and set it between herself and Tonks. Harry took it and added, "They shouldn't take too long."

"That will depend on the Ministry's competence," Daphne stated, sitting primly while sipping at her tea. "I wouldn't put it past Bagman to make them check in at the desk furthest from here."

Daphne had inherited her mother's icy aura and mastered it beyond what should've been possible. She was rarely openly emotional, remaining collected and calm in some of the most absurd situations. On the rare occasion she lost her cool though, it was a safe bet that it had something to do with Harry.

She chose to wear a comfortable green sweater over a grey blouse with a black, knee-length skirt and silver diamond studs in her ear. Her hair, meticulously cared for, was a bright, golden blonde that she would brag about styling herself. This time, she'd woven her hear in a braid across her scalp that resembled a Queen's circlet, a pair of thick strands of hair falling in front of her shoulders while the rest cascaded down her neck.

Andromeda commented with a tight frown, "With the bad blood he has with them, I wouldn't put it past Ludo to do something like that." Andromeda had the classic, aristocratic beauty that the Black family was known for. She was the tallest woman amongst her family, with chocolate-brown hair and warm, caring hazel eyes. She'd been reinstated to her ancestral home after being banished for marrying Ted Tonks, a muggleborn wizard, once Sirius had assumed his title of Lord.

Astoria flapped her lips like a horse. She then added, "Ludo's got a stick someone needs to pull out of him." Astoria looked remarkably like her mother, but she refused to behave like an aristocrat. Instead, she was loud, brash, and boorish at times. She wore a burgundy sweater with 'KRUM' stitched into both sleeves and a pair of bleached jeans. Both mother and sibling had tried to change her, but Astoria would forever remain the rebellious Greengrass.

Harry partially blamed Jasmine for influencing her.

Daphne chastised her sister for her uncouth comment, though she was unfazed by it once again. They all then started chatting about the World Cup and who they expected to win. Astoria and Jasmine were the only ones rooting for Bulgaria, it seemed, as Tonks had money riding on Ireland winning and Daphne seemed to root for them just because green was her favorite color. The mothers left them to it, instead talking to each other about the latest gossip in the _Daily Prophet_ —apparently, Fudge had been caught sleeping with his Deputy, Dolores Umbridge. That had sent Harry a mental image he had to use Occlumency to bury.

Harry left the gathering after nearly fifteen minutes had passed. Astoria and Jasmine were talking in hushed whispers now about something Harry didn't want to know. Daphne and Tonks were engaging their mothers in a battle of wits that neither side could win. He decided to step outside and take in the area.

As the tent flap fell behind him, he saw three familiar figures approaching. In the front was Lily, who looked like she'd swallowed something unpleasant and occasionally glared at Sirius to her right. The person with them was a fourteen-year-old Hermione Granger.

"Harry!" Sirius greeted with a happy wave. "You'll never guess who we found on our way here."

Playing along, he placed his hand over his eyes like a scout would while shielding his eyes from the sun. He looked around, deliberately avoiding Hermione. "Why, who could it be, Padfoot? Did you perhaps find an elusive leprechaun on his way to his pot of gold?"

Sirius guffawed. "If only, my boy. If only we did."

"Hello, Harry," Hermione greeted him politely, ignoring his and Sirius' antics.

He feigned surprise. "Why, Hermione! I didn't see you there." He gave her a welcoming smile. "How was the trip with the Weasleys?"

"Fine," she answered. "I don't know how Ginny stays sane, being around all of the boys all the time."

Hermione, in this world, had not made friends with Ron early on at Hogwarts. She'd rarely even encountered him actually, as she had not been sorted into Gryffindor. She was instead sorted into Ravenclaw, though not before becoming friends with Jasmine and Astoria on the Hogwarts Express. She was the same bookish girl his other self had known, but she was linked to Jasmine rather than Harry in this world. It was strange, Harry thought, to have such intimate knowledge of a person without truly knowing them.

In a way, he was both glad and disappointed that he wasn't such a close friend to her. His other self's memories showed that she was caring and loyal to a fault, but it wouldn't be right to use his other self's memories of her to get to know her in this world. He settled with the knowledge that she cared for Jasmine just as much as her other self had the other Harry.

Lily stepped forward. She jibed, "There's a reason Ginny knows so many hexes, Hermione. Come in. Jasmine and Astoria should already be inside." She glanced at Sirius, briefly frowning. "Sirius has something to ask you, Harry. I'll leave you to decide if you want to do it or not." She then led Hermione inside to twin cries of 'Hermione!' from Astoria and Jasmine.

Harry raised an eyebrow at his godfather. "Well, Mutt," he ribbed, "out with it."

"Got a job opportunity for you," Sirius told him. "I'm down a partner for a protection detail during the game tonight. Ol' boy is still recovering from what happened at Hogwarts a few months ago. Feel up to it?"

Harry went thoughtful, his conniving side thinking it over. He asked, "Public?"

"In the Minister's box."

"Who?"

"A foreign dignitary." Sirius added, "At most, you'll see Fudge for a few minutes. He's less than pleased they're here."

He pondered this. It was certainly plausible that a few foreign nations would be present, as this was the World Cup after all. The lack of dealing with Fudge meant it couldn't be either nation playing in the game and it was one he despised. However, as host, Fudge would have to make his rounds welcoming each dignitary. This presented Harry with an opportunity to embarrass Fudge in front of a foreign nation's leadership, allowing Sirius' bloc a chance to weaken his influence.

Harry accepted the job with a firm nod. "Sure. I'm game. So who is it?"

"French Ambassador," Sirius answered. "Apparently, he brought is kids too. That's why I need a partner."

"Anything special I should know?"

"Two daughters." Sirius then added with a wiggle of his brow, "One's your age too." He slithered to Harry's side and playfully jabbed him with his elbow.

Harry shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. "Are you trying to get me killed now?" he asked, thoughts of Daphne in a jealous rage sobering him.

"The girls don't have to know," Sirius suggested.

"We don't have to know _what_?" Daphne cut in with a clipped tone, prompting a 'yip' from Sirius. She still had her impassive, cold mask on her face, but Harry noticed the small, annoyed twitch of her ear. It was her tell, and you wouldn't know it was there if you didn't know where to look.

Tonks walked over, her hands on the back of her head in a lackadaisical show. "I'm guessing our boy's going on an escapade without us, Daph." Tonks' tone was easy-going as she spoke, as she was wont to do with her 'go with the flow' attitude. "You know how much she hates that, Harry."

Suddenly, Sirius remembered that he had to speak with Andromeda, so he bolted by Daphne into the tent before she could hex him.

Daphne's hexes were always subtle but constant annoyances. Her favorite was her 'Lingering Itch' hex she'd created, where a person's body seemed to noticeably itch no matter what they did to it. It lasted as long as she wanted, and she could choose anywhere on a person's body too. Many times, both boys and girls that suffered her ire had to spend time privately trying to relieve their itch as it was in a private place. Harry'd experienced it firsthand, as had Sirius, so he knew how debilitating it was to try and scratch your colon.

With Sirius, most people just said he'd kept some fleas from when he became a dog through his animagus transformation.

Harry gestured back to the tent. "Would you ladies care to join me in my bed?" He sounded the perfect gentleman.

"Harry…" Daphne warned.

"Well it wouldn't be the first time," Tonks chimed in with an impish grin. She looked at Daphne. "Whattaya say, Daph? I'll even let you kiss yourself again. You know how much you love that," she teased.

The mask cracked. Daphne blushed. She gave Tonks as withering a glare she could muster, though Tonks was unaffected. "Never, in public, mention that again, Nymphadora," she hissed.

Tonks' hair shifted to an angry shade of pink at that, but she didn't rise to the bait. They all knew that doing so outside privacy would do them no favors.

Tonks' name was, like in his other self's life, a sore spot for her. She hadn't had to deal with as much bullying as her other self had in her life, but she still faced some whenever Harry or Daphne hadn't been around. That was until she transfigured the last person who tried to bully her into a gerbil and forced him into his friend's mouth. Ever since, she'd not had to worry about it.

"Girls," Harry soothed quickly. "We need to talk anyway." At their look, he said, "I had the dream again."

"Oh." Tonks' hair returned to its normal shade of pink.

"Ah." Daphne deflated. "I see. Then we should speak."

Harry nodded. The three of them then entered the tent and walked to his bed on the third level. The adults were all speaking quietly around a dining table someone had conjured. There was no sound coming from them as their mouths moved, so Harry concluded someone had cast a privacy spell. Jasmine, Astoria, and Hermione were meeting as well, since Jasmine's bed's curtains were pulled shut.

Harry led the girls to his bed in the corner. With a wave of his off hand, the curtains pulled closed aside from a small entrance. Tonks ran the last few steps and jumped through the threshold with a small 'whoop'. Daphne sat on the edge of the mattress and raised an eye at him. He shrugged and entered, closing the entrance behind him.

Daphne already had her wand out and casting privacy spells. There were already a number of such spells woven into the bed curtains, but Daphne was never one to let anything slip through the cracks.

With the curtains closed, the interior now was much larger than it looked from the outside. The bed was unchanged, with Tonks laying spread eagle and Daphne sitting like she was riding side-saddle on a horse. However, there now was significant empty floor space, thanks to expansion charms, that allowed the occupants to conjure themselves personal furniture if they wanted.

Harry did just so, creating a wooden chair with a wave of his wand. He sat and regarded both young women. Daphne remained in the same spot, but Tonks slid to the edge of the mattress so her head could hang down and she could see Harry upside down.

"When?" Daphne asked without preamble, referring to his dream-memory of his encounter with his other self.

"This past night," he informed them.

Tonks asked, her head still hanging, "Anything new then?"

Harry exhaled tiredly. He stared at Tonks, who was grinning. "You know that's not how it works, Dora," he said, using the nickname he'd given her at six years old. Initially, it had been because 'Nymphadora' was too hard for a six-year-old Harry to say. Now it was a term of endearment they used when in private.

"I know." Tonks rolled onto her stomach, resting her chin in her hands and elbows on the mattress. "You've only said it a few thousand times now."

Contrary to how his other self had made it sound, he did not gain the knowledge and experiences of the two other souls within him by waking up and suddenly being blessed with it. It was subtly woven into his own mind so well that, at times, he couldn't tell they weren't his own. To him, it was more like remembering something he'd forgotten than learning something new. This had essentially demanded he master Occlumency at a young age once he remembered what the Master of Death had told him, lest he forget who he was. If he hadn't been able to organize his mind, Harry didn't know if he'd be sane today or if he'd mistake himself for the Dark Lord.

Even his Occlumency hadn't let him completely master the foreign memories though, as his subconscious recognized them as his own even if he knew they weren't. This forced him to create three 'safes' in his mind – one for each set. However, he had to constantly go through his own memories for something that was out of place and then move it to the set it belonged to. Even then he sometimes had to ask someone if what he remembered had actually happened because he couldn't be sure it wasn't his. It was maddening, but the other souls had proven a valuable asset numerous times over.

Daphne spoke. "I think it's more a sign of important events to come now more than anything, Harry." He looked at her. She reminded him, "You've already told us about what your other self went through his fourth year, and it all began tonight—the night of the World Cup."

"Daph's got a point," Tonks agreed. She shifted to where she sat cross-legged on the bed now. "You've basically got both complete sets by now, don't you?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Maybe," he hedged, unsure of it himself. "I admit they feel complete, but there's a real chance some are still locked away or bouncing around up there and I haven't found them yet."

"Merlin, Harry, is your mind needlessly complicated

He grinned, suppressing a laugh. "Don't I know it."

"You will, of course," Daphne said, "tell us if you…remember something new." It was more statement than request.

"Of course," he agreed with a nod. "Especially if it's really important."

"Now," Daphne changed topics. "About tonight."

"Yeah," Tonks joined. "I'm not with you on this either, Harry."

Harry slumped in his chair. _I knew this was coming_ , he thought. He sat up. "What about it?" He had his reasons for facing down those Death Eaters alone, and he was hoping he could convince them he was right.

"I will not let you face those three alone again!" Daphne clipped harshly, barely below screaming. "And I _will not_ let you do that to your sister again either!"

He winced. Daphne hadn't yelled at him since his stand at Hogsmeade a few months ago against Voldemort's best three Death Eaters, and they hadn't been pushovers. They'd left him as many scars and bruises as he gave them. He'd held them off long enough for the other students to escape and allies to arrive, though it had cost him dearly. Not only had the Death Eaters escaped; Harry had spent nearly a week in the Hospital Wing. Three days of that he spent in a coma.

Jasmine had left his side only to sleep while he was comatose. She had been distraught to see her brother look so…vulnerable. His first sight when he awoke had been her tear-soaked face, and that memory was forever burned into his eyes. Seeing her in such a state had shaken him to his very core, and it had, for the first time in his life, driven home how he had loved ones waiting for him, unlike his past self.

It had been his first brush with near-defeat in Harry's life, and he then realized defeat in this life meant death. He didn't have the Horcrux in him to take the ticket to the other side for him this time. He had then vowed to become strong enough to never be beaten again.

Harry carefully considered his next words. If he wasn't exact in his wording, Daphne would turn them on him and never back down. He at last told her, "It's our strategy."

"I don't recall ever agreeing to such idiocy," she retorted icily.

"I'm not talking about tonight. I'm talking about the long haul."

Tonks looked at him, curious, while Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Explain," she ordered, allowing no protest.

Harry knew then that he had her. "You both remember what I said he does this year?" Both nodded. "I need to become larger than a mere Triwizard Champion this year. For me to hold the sway we'll need, I have to have a very public showing that not even the _Prophet_ can spin. Tonight is the best stage for such a spectacle."

Daphne gripped her chin, thinking on his logic. He knew it was sound, since Fudge had gagged the Hogsmeade incident. Only a few select people even knew Hogsmeade had been attacked. Because Harry publicly shunted him, Fudge did everything he could to either hide or downplay his achievements, and Fudge's bribed editors at the _Prophet_ ensured he got his way.

Tonks pointed out playfully, "That's rather devious of you, Harry."

"Yes," Daphne agreed grudgingly. "And risky." She regarded him coolly. "While I can't deny your logic, as we will need all the influence we can get should Voldemort return…" She paused. "This is…exceedingly dangerous. Who knows if you'll even succeed."

"Don't worry," he promised, his voice steel. "I will." _I won't let the same thing happen again,_ he vowed to himself, the scar on his back pulsing.

"Well it's settled then." Tonks stood up from the bed. "Harry'll get his rematch, and it'll have to be alone or Fudge won't let him have any credit." Tonks grinned at Daphne. "'Sides, he's gonna' do it whether we say he can or not. He's stubborn like that."

Daphne gave a rueful chuckle. Tonks was, strangely enough, the one person who could almost always convince Daphne to abandon her thoughts and trust her. "I suppose you're right, Dora. Very well." She then stared at Harry and added, "But you had better come back to me in one piece."

"Same for me," Tonks said. "We'll bring you back just to hex you into oblivion if you don't."

He smiled. "Don't worry. I have no plans of ever leaving either of you."

They then talked for a few hours, catching up on their summers.

* * *

"Ready?" Sirius asked him.

He confirmed he was with a nod. He gestured toward the exit. "Lead the way, Padfoot."

"Harry," Lily called, almost hesitant. Harry looked to his mother. Concern was in her eyes, though she tried to mask it. She then said carefully, "Be safe."

His mother knew he could take care of himself and that he also didn't like being coddled, but he still appreciated the concern. He understood Lily only said it because she cared for him.

Harry gave her a smile. "It'll be fine, Mum. Unless my flea-ridden partner here has been hiding something from me." _And probably still fine even then_ , he added silently.

"I know," she said. "It's just…" she trailed off.

Sirius walked over and pat Lily's shoulder. "Relax, Lil. Harry can more than handle himself. Besides, it's just simple bodyguard duty. Anything happens, we get out of there."

That seemed to somewhat ease her, though her mouth was still tight with worry. She'd been beside herself since Harry's brush with death a few months ago. As Sirius had explained it to him: "She already thought she lost you once. Now you've gone and done it again. Do it a third time and she may not survive the grief." Ever since that revelation, he'd understood Lily's worries; she was terrified she'd lose him again.

He understood his mother's fear, but he couldn't promise anyone that his plan wouldn't wind up with his death one day. All he could do was work to obtain the strength needed to ensure he was the one left standing at the end.

Harry and Sirius then left, leaving Lily with Jasmine promising her that the two of them would be okay. After all, they had earned their respective titles of The Greatest Prodigy and Master Duelist. Sirius was known to have the fastest casting speed in the entire auror corps, and Harry had already mastered everything taught at Hogwarts.

The two had once dueled for the fun of it, and both came out of it with their own bumps and lessons learned. Sirius was able to send two spells at him for every one Harry cast, but Harry's spells had significantly more power to them. Ever since, Harry had been working tirelessly on improving his already-impressive casting time.

As they both walked, they chatted amiably about a few topics. Sirius seemed to focus his questions around Harry's feeling for Tonks, though he tried and failed to be discrete about it. Harry stayed vague without lying. He knew what Sirius was plotting, and he didn't want to deal with that until after the school year ended. Sirius must have noticed his intent soon enough. He abandoned those questions after the third ambiguous answer.

Occasionally, as they walked, Harry was approached by a brave fan of his. Each time, he spoke with them a moment and offered to commemorate their meeting somehow. He took a few pictures, autographed a few others, and went on his way.

Harry's popularity in this world, compared to his other self's, was far stronger. Rather than recluse himself, he embraced his fame, using it to enhance his and his allies' goals. Daphne had stressed its utility to him a few years prior, and he'd worked since then to be the wizarding world's most influential celebrity at every opportunity.

He'd accepted and done a few interviews with a number of wizarding publishers, all the way from _Witch's Weekly_ to _Quidditch Query_. His accomplishments on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch had professional scouts at every game. In every game so far, he'd caught the Snitch, and Gryffindor had won six straight Quidditch Cups with him as the Seeker and Captain for the last three years – Wood had refused that title, saying Harry deserved it more. Harry rarely bragged, Tonks and Jasmine did enough of that for him, but he never said 'no' when anyone asked if he could beat Krum. Many Quidditch analysts had him pegged as the greatest Seeker prospect ever. England's team manager had even approached him about trying out, but he refused, saying he'd rather finish his studies. This all, of course, had gained him an insane level of notoriety in every level of wizarding society – all the way from first-generation muggleborns up to the proudest pureblood families.

Harry and Sirius walked for near thirty minutes before arriving at their destination. The two of them were to meet the French representative at the stadium's VIP entrance and swap with his current escorts. There was still a solid hour before the Snitch was released, so people were barely filtering in the stadium yet.

Harry kept an eye on the crowd for anyone who stood out. Unfortunately, due to the dozens of countries' citizens present, a lot of people stood out. He soon gave up his futile paranoid effort and watched the people passing him through the VIP entrance.

Mostly, it was wealthy or influential members of wizarding Britain, though a few representatives from other countries went by too. Quite a few of the British entries were Lords of Pureblood houses and their families. Harry had to fight back the urge to start blasting a few of them, as he knew they had been part of the planned World Cup attack in his other self's life. The only things that stopped him were knowing that he wasn't certain they would be in his world and that he'd be spending time in Azkaban for attacking them unprovoked.

At last – and before Fudge arrived, to Harry's relief – his charges walked up. "Ambassador!" Sirius greeted jovially, like he was seeing an old friend. He walked over to the group. "And I see you brought your lovely daughters with you this time," he added with a smile at the two young women.

Sirius had told him back at their tent who they'd be guarding. They were to watch over France's Ambassador to Magical Britain, Clément Delacour, and his two daughters—Fleur and Gabrielle. That had initially thrown him for a loop, since he had memories of Fleur from his prior self. In them, she had wound up the Beauxbatons representative for the Triwizard Tournament. She also had, much to Molly Weasley's consternation, married Bill Weasley. His other self hadn't had much interaction with Fleur, but she had proven to be a caring, loving woman over the years to her husband, even after he'd been bitten by a werewolf.

Harry, however, had no idea if his other self's memories applied to the Fleur ten yards before him. Too much of his life was different to rely on his memories for more than broad reference points. In the end, he decided to just see what kind of person she was now before judging her by his other self's memories.

"Lord Black!" Clément returned happily. "It's been too long, my friend." Clément Delacour was a portly man with wrinkles around his mouth from smiling too often. He'd lost most of his hair over the years and what little was left was grey. Due to how often he was in Britain, his accent was barely noticeable.

On either shoulder were Clément's daughters. Gabrielle, the younger at only ten, hid behind her father. She looked in every direction in wonder, taking in the throngs of people from all over the world. Fleur, Harry knew, was his own age and as radiantly beautiful as his memories showed.

Fleur's silvery hair, shining brighter than even Daphne's, was pulled into a low, thin ponytail that she draped over her right shoulder. She wore a blue sweater with a matching beret atop her head and grey-blue pants. She stood a full head taller than her father but a few inches shorter than Harry. Her eyes, the same stunning sapphire he remembered, could entrance a man as much as her body or Veela Allure.

Sirius gave a short nod to the pair of auror bodyguards behind the Delacours. The two young men left without a word. He then gestured for Harry to approach, the grin returning. "Come. Come, Harry. Clément, I would like to introduce you to my favorite godchild: Harry."

With a chuckle, Harry said, "Don't let Jasmine ever hear that. She'll try and get rid of me just so she can be your favorite again." Harry held out his hand. "Harry Potter. _It's a pleasure to meet you_ ," he greeted in French.

Fleur arched a surprised eye at him while her father let out a hearty laugh. "So this is the infamous Hero of Hogsmeade you told me of, eh, Sirius? Why didn't you tell me he could speak such a beautiful language?"

With a grin, Harry admitted, "I'm afraid you've just heard the entirety of what I know."

Sirius and Clément both enjoyed a chuckle at that. Even Fleur cracked a grin at him, though it vanished as quick as it appeared.

"Oh. Where are my manners?" Clément introduced them all. "I am Clément Delacour, French Ambassador to your British Ministry, and my lovely escorts here are my daughters. Come, girls. No need to be rude."

Fleur stepped forward seamlessly, like she was accustomed to introducing herself. "Fleur Delacour," she greeted, her accent more prevalent than her father's but not as severe as his memories'. "It iz a pleazure to meet you, Monsieur Potter." She held out her hand.

He took it and pressed it gently to his lips. He gave her his best grin. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." He chose not to compliment her appearance, as he had no doubt she got enough of that as it was. She arched a curious eyebrow at him as her hand retreated but showed no other reaction. Harry then turned to Gabrielle. "And just who is this dashing young lady?"

Gabrielle was staring up at him, stars dancing in her azure eyes. Harry had seen that look often ever since he embraced his fame. The poor girl was star-struck.

Fleur stepped to her sister's side. She pushed her gently and admonished, "It iz rude to stare, Gabi."

"G-Gabrielle!" the girl nearly shouted. She blushed immediately, realizing how loud she was. The girl looked down to hide her face. "I'm…I'm Gabrielle, Mister Potter."

Harry gave her a happy smile. "Nice to meet you Gabrielle. May I call you Gabi too?"

"Of-Of course!" she exclaimed. The blush returned. "I-I mean…if you want to, Mister Potter."

"Harry." She looked up at him, surprised. "All my friends just call me Harry."

Gabrielle seemed to shine brighter than ever. She gave him the happiest nod he'd ever seen. Harry could see it in her eyes. With just that, he'd made her the happiest girl in the world for the rest of the day. Knowing that always sprouted a grin of his own.

Fleur seemed to appreciate the gesture, as she regarded him with a grateful smile. She mouthed him a silent 'thank you' that he accepted with a gracious nod.

"Now, Clément," Sirius whispered loud enough for all of them to hear. "I feel the need to warn you, as you are a father. Harry is a known lady-killer over here. He's broken the hearts of hundreds of witches in Britain."

Seeing it for the jape it was, Harry didn't correct him even while Fleur looked at him carefully. True, he broke many a witch's hearts nowadays, but he was never the one to seek them out. Usually, Daphne and Tonks scared them off before they got the courage to speak to him. They were as possessive of him as he was them.

Clément gave Sirius a smirk that spoke volumes. "My friend," he said, "my daughters are more than able to handle themselves. They took after their mother in that regard."

"I don't know…" Sirius looked at Gabrielle. "It looks like he's already got one snared. It's only a matter of time before he steals them both."

Fleur's face was neutral, but Harry could see she didn't appreciate being spoken of in such a manner. So he cut if off. "Sirius. You know full well what the girls would do if I did such a thing."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Too true, my boy. Their tempers are legendary, not to mention what Lily would do to you." Clément looked at them curiously. Sirius promised an explanation once they were away from the younger ones.

Fleur, however, was giving him an icy stare. She pulled Gabrielle close to her, as if protecting her from Harry.

Sirius must have noticed, because he piped up, "It's all in good fun, girls. Harry is the perfect gentleman. I promise he never plays those games." He looked pointedly at his godson. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Of course," he answered, insulted at the thought. "I would never play with a fair maiden's heart like that." He'd been accused of that dozens of times based on unfounded rumors, though he accepted that as a risk of his fame. But not once had it ever been true.

Seeing his sincerity must have mollified Fleur, since her grip on her sister loosened. Gabrielle looked curiously at everyone, confusion on her face. Her innocence was something Harry envied.

They all then started walking towards the VIP entrance. Sirius took the lead and walked with Clément, chatting animatedly about any number of topics. Harry took up the rearguard behind the younger Delacours. Fleur and Gabrielle both sent him furtive glances from the corner of their eyes, though for decidedly different reasons.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Fleur, for whatever reason, was watching him like she suspected him of a crime. Likely, she was trying to catch him staring at her rear.

 _It is a nice one though_ , Harry thought idly as he looked around for potential threats. _It's just not worth being labeled a pervert, even privately._

Sirius spoke briefly with the guards next to the entrance. He pointed to Harry, explaining his presence. As Deputy-Head Auror, only two people could countermand him, and neither of them were present. The guards let them all through and they went to their seats.

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's chapter 2. The initial response seemed positive, so I figured I'd let another chapter out.

This is the introductory arc, so it will be a little bit before the action kicks off in earnest. The intro arc will be either four or five chapters. Also, pay heed to Harry's thoughts about his other self's memories. This world is different from canon, so don't expect everything going forward to follow canon's path. The past in this story is dramatically different than canon, and so too shall the future of this story. I'll unveil more about the past years of Harry's time at Hogwarts after the intro arc is over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

"Here we are," Sirius said once they reached their seats.

The Delacours, as foreign officials, were seated just above the Minister's Box. Their seats were situated near the middle of the field and halfway up the stadium, giving them a perfect view of the entire game. They were in a pseudo-booth that separated their seats from everyone else. The booth had a single doorway as the only way in and out of it. On the other side of the entryway was a passageway for the VIPs to reach their seats.

There were only three seats pre-arranged for them. Clément, thoroughly enjoying Sirius' company, declared this as unacceptable and immediately conjured comfortable chairs for Sirius and Harry. They both accepted the gesture gratefully and took their seats, though Harry left an alert ward at the entrance to warn him of anyone approaching.

Sirius sat at one end and Clément immediately sat next to him, continuing to chat like friends seeing each other for the first time in years. Gabrielle pounced on the opportunity and claimed the middle chair. Fleur took the seat to her sister's left before Gabi could offer it to Harry, so he sat on the far end.

Fleur was still watching him warily, but it looked like she wasn't about to hex him at the first opportunity now. He took that as a sign of progress and smiled at the sisters, making Gabrielle beam at him.

Sirius then summoned the House Elf assigned to their booth. It appeared with a loud 'crack' and took their respective orders. Clément ordered a bottle of firewhiskey for he and Sirius; Fleur chose a salad for her and a water for Gabrielle; and Harry asked for a butterbeer. The elf came back with their orders a minute later. The elf then departed after telling them to call him for anything.

The two men immediately got to work on their liquor, each taking turns with the bottle when the other was talking. The bottle must have been charmed to never run out, since they'd soon drank far more than a standard bottle should have had. Fleur and Gabrielle ate their shared salad with delicate care, the elder sibling pointedly not looking at Harry. Gabi gave him an apologetic smile, which he answered with a shrug. Harry saw no point in speaking at the moment, so he uncorked his bottle and took a swig of butterbeer.

It still that odd, but delicious, liquid butterscotch. Harry asked for a hint of the firewhiskey from his elders and added a nice touch of alcohol to the bottle. It added a nice heat that Harry could feel go from his chest to his extremities. The new taste never disappeared, so it must have been a permanent mixture with the bottomless charm.

With a flick of his wrist, Harry left his bottle floating next to his armrest. Sirius and Clément hadn't seen him, but both girls did. Gabrielle gasped in wonder, and Fleur's eyes went from cold to calculating. Wandless magic was supposed to be difficult at best, and he'd just case a wandless hovering charm with nothing more than a simple gesture.

Before anyone could say anything though, Harry's alert spell warned him of someone's soon approach. Believing it to be Fudge, he stood and moved to the side, away from the family. Sirius notice him and whined. He handed Clément the bottle and walked to his post next to the door, informing the Frenchman of what was coming. Clément then stood from his chair and turned towards the entrance.

British Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge strode into their suit a scant moment later. His dark, beady eyes darted around the room, lingering on Harry a second longer than needed. Fudge's frown deepened only slightly, and Harry nearly smirked at it.

Fudge in this world was no different physically from the Fudge Harry's other self had dealt with. He was a small, rotund man who seemed to think himself another Churchill by how he dressed. Fudge always wore his traditional bowler cap and dinner jacket wherever he went, and now was no different.

Fudge was flanked on either side by his two bodyguards. Kingsley Shacklebolt, still as large and imposing as ever, stood just outside the door, and Rufus Scrimgeour, the Ministry's Head Auror, entered the room with his Minister. Scrimgeour was still a crotchety old wizard, but Harry had seen first-hand his ability with a wand. He had not become Head Auror through politics alone.

Scrimgeour's experienced yellow eyes flew around the room faster than a hawk's. His gaze lingered on Harry for a different reason than Fudge's—more analyzing than disgusted. His mouth turned into a stern, disapproving frown at Sirius, but he then went back to watching Fudge.

Sirius and Scrimgeour butted heads regularly. Primarily, the conflict came because Sirius often pulled stunts like this and didn't approve Harry's involvement in Auror affairs with him. Though Scrimgeour had, in private, acknowledged Harry's ability, the fact remained that he did not have the Ministry's approval.

"Ambassador Delacour," Fudge greeted politely, never getting closer than a few meters from the Frenchman. Everyone present knew Fudge had no love for the French, but Fudge was practiced at feigning politeness. "I see you arrived safely."

Clément nodded. "I did." He gestured to Harry and Sirius. "My bodyguards have proven to be excellent company. My commendations to the Ministry if every Auror is like these two. Care for a drink?" he asked, holding out the bottle of firewhiskey.

There was a brief flash of disgust, but Fudge hid it before most would notice. Though everyone present knew how to look for it. "I'm afraid I have pressing matters to attend to, so I can't. I hope you enjoy the World Cup." He then turned and made to leave.

With a silent incantation and a small twist of his wrist, Harry cast a breeze on Fudge's hat. The sudden gust took the Minister by surprise, unable to grab his bowler cap before it flew out of the booth and into the stands below. Fudge scowled as it vanished into the crowd.

Harry quickly brandished his wand and cast _accio_ on the hat. It came back like it was on the other end of a fishing line. Harry caught it and called to Fudge, "Minister. I believe you lost this." He held out the hat but made no move to approach the toady man.

Fudge's face was carefully neutral, but there was fury in his eyes as he looked to Harry. Sirius was trying his hardest to stop from smiling with varying degrees of success. Scrimgeour's frown became more prominent, though satisfaction danced in his eyes. Kingsley gave Harry a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Fudge walked over and sole his hat back. "Thank you, Mister Potter," he almost spat.

Harry gave him his most annoying grin. Tonks had made him practice it for maximum effect. "You're welcome, Minister. Though I recommend using a sticking charm next time. It can get pretty drafty when you're up this high."

"I'll consider it," Fudge grinded out through gritted teeth. He then made a show of turning on his heel and leaving, trying to retain as much dignity as he could. Scrimgeour and Kingsley following him as he left.

Once they were out of earshot, Clément and Sirius burst into another laughing fit. Even Fleur had a few giggles as Fudge's expense, much to Harry's satisfaction. Gabrielle looked like she didn't know why everyone was so happy, but she giggled along too.

Sirius walked over and gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. "Well done, Harry. I haven't seen Fudge that embarrassed since you sent those Demetors packing last year."

"Oui," Clément added. "I must say, the gust of wind was a nice touch."

Harry smiled as innocently as he could manage. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Regardless," Fleur chimed in. "Zhe match begins soon." She gave Harry a small, brief smile. "Zhe real entertainment iz about to start."

Harry and the men returned to their seats with broad smiles. No one present liked Fudge at all; Harry and Sirius were vocal opponents of his after all. Seeing such a reprehensible man so embarrassed by someone young as Harry just enhanced the mirth even more.

Harry grabbed his enhanced butterbeer and took another drink, savoring the added heat. He then held it out to Fleur. "Care for a bit?" She raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "I know it's not wine, but it isn't half bad. Trust me, once you try it, you'll get hooked," he grinned at her.

"I have tried zhe…butterbeer before," she protested.

"I may have…added a little something to it. It is _much_ better now."

Fleur snorted. "I highly doubt zhat. But," she added, "I suppose one sip won't hurt." She took it from him and pressed the bottle to her lips.

Fleur pulled the bottle away and swallowed. She didn't gag or cough, so that was a good sign to Harry. She handed the bottle back to him, and Harry could swear her face was tense, like she was holding back from smacking her lips.

At last she admitted, "Zhat was…not unpleazant. Not zhe best I've had, but zertainly not zhe worst either."

"Glad you like it." He called the elf and got her a bottle of her own. He then stole the firewhiskey – Sirius and Clément protesting all the while – and mixed it together as he did his. He tossed the liquor back to them and handed Fleur the new bottle. "Think you can handle it?"

Fleur's eyebrows rose to his challenge. "I azzure you, Monsieur Potter, zhat I can 'handle it' as you zay."

"Harry," he corrected as she grabbed her own bottle.

Fleur smiled. "Harry zhen." She then sipped from her bottle and looked to the field.

Harry nearly whooped when he realized the ice had left her. _Now then_ , he thought as he took another drink. _Let's see if this goes any different or not._ He watched as both competing teams took the pitch.

The stadium was completely filled. The sound dampening barrier around the Delacours' suite dulled the deafening roar of the hundreds of thousands to a low buzz. The crowd seemed split down the middle with Irish green on one side and Bulgarian burgundy on the other.

The Bulgarian team was stoic and focused as they walked onto the pitch. They all walked to the white border on the pitch and stood shoulder to shoulder, each one wearing their burgundy and black uniform. One by one they mounted their brooms – all deep black – and took off to their positions. The Keeper, Andrei Uruk, was the first to take his place near the three hoop-goals on their side. Uruk was greeted by a tremendous shout from the Bulgarian fans that was loud even through the sound dampener. Victor Krum, the star of the Quidditch world, took flight last, and the cheer that met him was deafening even through the Delacours' barrier.

As the Bulgarians took their places in the air, the stadium lights suddenly went out. Everyone in the stadium was on the edge of their seat. The Irish were coming, and their famous introduction with them.

And it did not disappoint.

A giant, dancing leprechaun lit up the stadium at once. It was around fifty meters tall, as it was taller than even the Quidditch goal posts. Classic Gaelic music played throughout the entire stadium. The leprechaun riverdanced in perfect sync with the music. As soon as the song's first verse finished, the leprechaun exploded in a shower of sparks, and the Irish team soared through were its head had just been.

The crowd erupted louder than ever before. Gabrielle had jumped out of her seat with a cheer as well, prompting everyone else to chuckle. The sparks that had been the leprechaun then started coalescing together, morphing into a humongous copy of the Irish flag.

The Irish team must have practiced their entrance, because they started a series of intricate maneuvers and patterns in the air that matched the beat of the music perfectly. Even Harry had to admit that such a display was quite impressive.

 _But_ , he thought with a look at the unmoving Bulgarian team. _The game isn't won by pretty designs._

Idly, he wondered how his mother and sister were enjoying the theatrics so far. Their seats were next to the Weasleys, so he had no doubt they would be entertained enough. The Weasleys were friends of his family, but they weren't anywhere near as close as they'd been for Harry's other self. They saw each other on holidays or at gatherings but rarely outside of that.

At last, the entrance festivities came to a close. The Irish players took their respective positions, mirroring the Bulgarians. The head referee, a German witch, set the box containing the bludgers and uaffle. She then explained the rules to everyone in the stadium with help of a _Sonorous_ charm enhancing her voice.

The referee pulled a small box from her robe. She opened it and the small golden snitch fluttered out, both Seekers watching its path intently. The referee then opened the box on the ground and both bludgers shot out at top speed. She reached in and pulled out the quaffle. She gave everyone in the air a stern look. She tossed it into the air. The crowd roared.

The Quidditch World Cup had begun.

Immediately, the Irish took the quaffle and darted past the Bulgarian pitiful defense, creating a one-on-one with the Keeper right off the bat. Uruk, however, must have already predict that would happen, as he met the Chaser in the air. Uruk held out his arm and effectively clothes-lined the Irishman, knocking him from his broom. The Bulgarian fans cheered raucously while the Irish ones booed.

Harry's eyebrows shot up while the referee called a halt to the action. "Interesting," he thought out loud. "Not a bad way to start actually."

"How zo?" Fleur asked. "He haz already been given a warning and not five zeconds have passed."

"It stopped the run before it could get started," he explained. "Momentum is big for Chasers. If they get in a rhythm, the Keeper's done for. He just made sure they didn't lose right out the gate."

"Zhat was mean of heem," Gabrielle pouted from her chair.

Harry laughed a bit. "Indeed it was," he agreed. "But, at times, you have to be a little mean if you're aiming for victory."

When play restarted, Ireland retained possession of the quaffle, but that wasn't what was most important. Rather, Bulgaria now had time to set up their defensive formation. Now, three Chasers had to get by six Bulgarians to score instead of just one.

The Irish Chasers lived up to their reputation though. The weaved through the defenses with sharp movements and crisp passes. They had to dodge a few bludgers, even the Beaters tried to steal the quaffle away, but the Irish got behind the line soon enough. Uruk managed to deflect the first shot, but he couldn't reach the follow-up catch and shoot to the opposite hoop.

It had taken a little longer than expected, but the Irish drew first blood. Cheers came from the green half of the stadium while the burgundy half groaned. Uruk collected the quaffle and passed it to one of his Chasers, beginning play anew.

The Bulgarians moved the quaffle slowly forward, relying on their Beaters to keep away the bludgers and only passing when no Irishman was near. Eventually, the Irish Beaters pierced their shield with a move few pairs could. They both hit each bludger right after one another at the same Beater rather than the Chaser behind him. The Bulgarian was knocked out of the way, allowing the Irish Chasers, in a classic spearhead formation, to steal the quaffle and score once again.

When play resumed once more, the Bulgarians again went with their slow-moving formation, making little forward progress.

Sirius commented from his chair, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they're not even trying to score."

Harry then figured out the Bulgarian strategy. "That's because they aren't!" he exclaimed.

Clément spoke up, "Up… isn't the goal to score?"

"In most cases, yes."

"Zhen what iz different zhis time?" Fleur asked.

"Bulgarian is playing to their strength." He looked at their Seeker. "Krum."

Sirius's eyes lit up. "Oh, I get it!" He barked a laugh. "Those clever little buggers."

Gabrielle said, I still don't get it."

Harry explained, "Bulgarian knows they don't have the offense to score on Ireland. So, instead, they're minimizing how much Ireland can score until Krum catches the snitch. If they can prevent Ireland from going up by one-fifty or more…"

"Then they'll win," Clément pieced together. He sat forward in his seat, watching even closer now. "It's certainly unconventional, but it's a good idea considering who they're up against. Probably the best they can do too."

"I zee." Fleur added, "Zhey are willing to lose a bit over time to win in zhe end. Risky."

"But could actually get them the win," Harry finished. He then abandoned watching everyone but the Seekers. _They'll determine who wins this time._

Krum led the opposing Seeker on a few false dives over the next few minutes. Harry had to admit, his feints were _really_ good. Each time, he blocked the Irishman's view ahead of him, preventing him from sniffing out the fake for what it was. Harry couldn't even be sure he wouldn't fall for them every now and again should they ever compete.

Every now and again, Krum would also help with his team's defenses. Usually, it was nothing more than occupying an open lane before the Irish could take advantage. He never got directly involved with the quaffle, but his position would delay the opponent a few seconds longer, buying every precious second possible.

The game continued on like this for the next hour or two. It certainly wasn't the most exciting Quidditch match of the century, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time until the endgame came around. He ignored everything else on the pitch. Harry, like Krum, was looking for the snitch.

He didn't doubt Ireland had scored quite a few goals by then. Every little while, he would hear the Irish fans go wild for a bit. The stadium would then resume its dull buzz until Ireland scored again.

It was after the latest Irish applause Harry saw it: a flash of gold near the Irish goals. Krum must have seen it too, because he leaned all the way onto his broom and took off after it. The Irish Seeker was two seconds behind, but that may as well have been two miles when dealing with Krum. Nobody on the pitch was faster than him with a broom.

The Irish Beaters sent both bludgers at him. Krum avoided them easily with a few spins in the air, not losing any speed at all. It was now a matter of when, not if, Krum caught the snitch.

The entire audience itself seemed to be waiting with baited breath. The snitch flew around the stadium, leading Krum for as long as it could, though Krum was always inching closer. It tried to lose him with turns that should've been too sharp for a broom to make, but Krum made the turns anyway.

To a Quidditch fan, watching Krum on a broom was poetry in motion. It was the most beautiful flying Harry had ever witnessed. He made impossible moves seem effortless in the air. Krum also never seemed to lose his sense of direction as he flew. It didn't matter if he was upside down or right side up. He never even flinched in the wrong direction.

He snatched the snitch from the sky right above his own Keeper. Nobody breathed for a second. Everyone looked to the scoreboard to see what the final score was. Did Bulgaria's strategy pay off?

The giant scoreboard read in both side's respective colors:

 **Ireland Bulgaria**

 **150 150**

For a moment, no one knew how to react. Bulgaria's fans then erupted into a chorus of cheers louder than any before. Shouts of "Krum! Krum! Krum!" echoed throughout the stadium from the burgundy side.

Krum though looked disgusted and disappointed that his efforts hadn't given them the win.

Harry was, for the first time, speechless after a Quidditch game. He didn't even know how to react to what he was seeing. He knew a tie was theoretically possible in the game, but he'd never even heard of one before. Especially not in the World Cup. But they couldn't leave the game tied like this. Not the World Cup. There had to be a single victor. There had to be some tiebreaker.

Gabrielle was the first in their suite to speak. " _Wow_!"

"That," Clément said, "was some of the beset flying I've ever seen."

"This," Sirius exclaimed, "is a great game! There's never been a tie in the World Cup before!"

"Zhat…was incredible," Fleur stated, awed at what she'd witnessed, and everyone else in the suite had the same look.

Harry sat forward in his chair. He reminded them all, "They can't have a tie tonight. Somebody _has_ to win."

Everyone agreed with him and then watched the referee. She was conferring with a few official-looking people on the ground. After a brief discussion, she called both team Captains to her. Uruk went for Bulgaria and one of the Irish Chasers for them. The three of them talked for a few minutes until everyone nodded. The two Captains shook hands and then flew up on their brooms to their teams.

The referee's voice then boomed throughout the stadium so that she could be heard. "Ladies and Gentleman," she began, "you are about to witness the first ever sudden death round in Quidditch World Cup history!" The crowd went wild, making her yell on top of the _Sonorous_. "After a discussion with the international rules committee and both team Captains, it has been decided that the game will be decided with this!" She held up the quaffle. "It will be one on one. Only one Chaser and one Keeper will play.

"The game will end in one of two ways. One, the Chaser scores a goal. This gives the Chaser's team victory. Or two, the quaffle hits the ground. This means the Keeper's team is victorious. Both Captains have agreed that these are the roles. Bulgaria's Alexei Uruk shall be the Keeper." Bulgaria's fans screamed with a rabid fervor. "And Ireland's Sean Connor shall be the Chaser!" Now Ireland's cheers became deafening. "Now let the match begin!"

"Interesting rules," Sirius mulled. "Notice how she didn't say the Chaser only got one shot at it?"

"I did," Clément nodded.

"So long as the quaffle is in the air, the match is still on," Harry concluded. "In that case, I'd catch it if I were the Keeper."

"It seems…unfair to zhe Keeper," Fleur said.

"Unfortunately," Clément consoled, "those are the rules."

"And they both agreed to it," Sirius pointed out.

Harry didn't point it out to them, but the Bulgarian team – Krum in particular – did not look pleased by Uruk's decision. _I can't say I blame them,_ he thought. _Connor's arguably the best Chaser out there. You're up there, Uruk, but I feel you let your pride get the best of you here. And that may have just cost you the Cup._

Both team Captains mounted their brooms and flew to their positions: Uruk in front of his own goals and Connor to mid-field. The referee tossed the quaffle to Connor. He caught it, tucked it into his side, and took off.

Uruk, it seemed, wasn't content to wait. He leaned into his broom and flew at Connor to intercept him, shocking Harry at his brazen abandonment of the goals. If Connor got even a glimpse at the goals now, it was over.

Uruk was on top of Connor before anyone could blink though, cutting him off. Uruk was practically his shadow, staying perfectly between him and the goals no matter how he flew. Connor tried all number of maneuvers on Uruk but none shook him. It was a risky strategy, but it seemed to be paying off for Uruk so far.

Harry spotted Connor's opening just as he did. Connor initiated a dive bomb, the quaffle tucked away from Uruk's reaching hands. When they were about twenty feet from the ground, Uruk slowed down just slightly, and Connor seized the opportunity.

He tucked in tight and turned towards the goal, practically skimming the ground as he screwed himself around. Uruk reacted a hair later, but that was enough. Connor immediately cocked his arm and threw the quaffle at the lower-right hoop. Uruk put everything he had into his broom's speed to try and intercept.

No one dared breathe. The entire stadium was silent as death. Everyone was on the precipice of either sheer elation or depression, and it all depended on how fast Uruk could move.

It seemed to move in slow motion. The quaffle spun as it flew through the air. It was less than ten yards from the goal. Uruk reached out, stretching his long arms to their absolute max. The tip of his finger brushed the quaffle, slightly redirecting it. It collided with the outer edge of the loop. The Bulgarian fans cheered. Uruk hit the goalpost too, the metal ringing.

Connor then dashed over and caught the quaffle out of the air. He then flew to the hoop on the opposite side and leisurely tossed it through.

Half the fans went silent.

Ireland had won the Quidditch World Cup.

No one in the Delacour booth moved. They were too stunned to react.

The first to find their voice was Gabi. "Zhat…was… _AWESOME_!"

The silence broken, the others at last stirred. "Just…wow," Sirius breathed, awestruck. "That was, without doubt, the best game I've ever seen."

"I'm inclined to agree," Clément said. "This one will be talked about for a long time."

"What a game." Harry looked for Krum. He couldn't find him. _He must have already left. Can't say I blame him._

"Zhat was…exhilarating, _non_?" Fleur asked them.

"Definitely," Sirius agreed. He looked at Clément and asked, "As much as I want to talk about the game, Harry and I are here to keep you and your daughters safe until you leave. Do you want to leave now? The crowds won't be thinning out for an hour at least. We will be holding a nice after party at the tent, and you're welcome to join us."

Clément looked to his daughters. "Girls? Would you rather use the portkey now or have a little fun before we go home?"

Fleur shrugged. "I am fine with eizher, Papa. Mozher isn't expecting us until zhe morning."

Gabrielle blushed and asked shyly, "Will you be zhere, Harry?"

Now the poor girl had a crush, and everyone knew it based on the looks they gave Harry. Fleur promised pain if he hurt her sister, and Clément and Sirius were failing to conceal their mischievous glee.

Harry held back a sigh. _Now I can't go and disappoint the girl._ He then smiled and answered, "Of course, Gabi."

Gabi's face nearly shined, her smile was so bright. She gave her affirmative to her father, and they started getting ready to leave. They would have to walk to the tent since no brooms or apparations were allowed under the wards covering the grounds.

At Harry's suggestion, they waited until the crowd had mostly filtered out of the stadium. This was to avoid possibly losing one another in the people. They waited close to an hour before they left.

In that time, the five of them talked about all kinds of things. Gabi was glued to Harry's side the entire time and wanted to know all about him and whether the rumors she'd heard in France were true—most were hogwash, as was usual. Fleur was glaring daggers at him all the while her sister was probing him. As they got to know one another, Harry couldn't help wondering why his other self never sought Clément out. He was personable, quick-witted, and was an excellent ally both politically and magically.

 _Regardless_ , he thought. _I'm not going to let this chance slip by._

At last, the crowd had dissipated enough to safely travel. Harry silently conjured his Patronus, a stag in memory of his father, and sent it to Lily with a message to expect additional company.

This casual show left Fleur and Clément gobsmacked, their mouths hanging open. Gabrielle didn't yet understand the magnitude of what he'd done, so she looked at her family members, curious at their reaction. Sirius openly laughed at their expressions.

"I remember my first time I saw Harry do that," Sirius mused fondly. "I was like you, I think. Though I was a bit more vocal about it."

"Zhat," Clément regained his voice, his accent slipping briefly, "is…unbelievable. A full Patronus, and at such an age! It's unheard of!"

 _And silently_ , Harry silently bragged. He then shrugged, nonchalant. He'd gotten used to that reaction over the years. "It's never been hard for me."

Sirius walked over and smacked Clément across the back. "Relax, old man. Just trust me when I say Harry – and Jasmine too now that I think about it – defies all common sense. And he does it so easy you wonder why nobody else ever did it too. He jumps rope with the notion of limits."

Clément went contemplative. "I see."

It was Fleur's reaction he was curious for, so Harry looked to her. She'd since recovered from her initial shock, as she now regarded him with a mixture of curiosity, like she'd come across an intriguing puzzle. Harry, though, was apathetic to it.

 _Try if you want_ , he kept to himself. _I can guarantee you won't figure me out._ "Shall we go?" he asked them. "Mum's probably waiting for us by now."

They all then exited the booth. Sirius tried to take the bottomless firewhiskey bottle with him, but it disintegrated once it passed the stadium's exit. He and Clément mourned their loss briefly before walking again. Sirius and Clément led the way, with Gabi hanging back to be near Harry, though Fleur didn't let her get behind her. The youngest Delacour whined a little, but she stopped trying after the third failed attempt. So, with a huff, Gabrielle stomped forward to her father.

This time, Fleur never glanced at Harry behind her. He found it curious but didn't dwell on it. As he'd learned, there was no understanding a woman's motivations. Even with three brains melded together, he was no closer to solving the female conundrum. He simply accepted what was happening and kept his eyes peeled for anyone suspicious approaching him.

After a few minutes, Fleur slowed her walk – not enough to fall behind her father but enough to where Harry caught up to her. Harry almost slowed too, but he realized that she wanted to speak with him without the others hearing. He let her fall into step beside him to his left.

He turned and arched an eye at her. He didn't know what she wanted, so he let her start. She was the only one who knew her motivations, after all.

Fleur asked, "Are you aware of what is coming soon?" Her accent was almost completely gone now.

 _Curious_ , he noted. He didn't say anything. She probably had her reasons for keeping the accent up. People were likely to say things around you if they thought you wouldn't understand it. "You mean the Triwizard Tournament?" he asked, guessing what she meant.

She nodded. " _Oui_. My father doesn't know I know. Madame Maxime told me. How did you find out?"

He shrugged. "I have my sources," he answered vaguely. Everyone in his life had been careful to not mention it around him. Having a nearly parallel life in his head counted to him as a source.

Fleur was silent for a moment as they strode together. She then asked, "Do you plan to compete?"

He briefly considered whether he should be talking to Fleur like this or not. On the one hand, she was a potential future ally in the fight against Voldemort. She was a skilled duelist and strong magically if the Goblet chose her again. Her father also wielded considerable influence in France and, to a lesser extent, Britain as well.

On the other hand though, she was someone he had memories of. As far as he knew, she had lived a long and happy life after Voldemort had been vanquished. He also would feel dirty if he used his memories to manipulate her into doing what he wanted.

It was a difficult decision for him. He weighed the pros and cons carefully in his mind. Eventually, the pros won out.

"Yes," he at last answered.

Fleur went silent again. Harry could see the gears working in her head. She wanted to ask him something but wasn't sure how to approach it. He was content to let her stew, so he didn't say anything else.

"That Patronus of yours," she broke the silence. "It is complete?"

"All the way," he confirmed with a slight nod. "Dementors refuse to approach Hogwarts now because of it." He wasn't one to brag, but that day last year had been one of his proudest to date. He'd sent Fudge a resounding message that left him blubbering when no Dementor would dare risk facing Harry's Patronus.

"Impressive." She didn't challenge his boast, surprising him. It was rare when someone took him at face value. Fleur then said, "As you know, Beauxbatons will send our best to compete in the tournament. I will be there."

"So?"

"Would you…" she started, though she didn't finish. She glanced away nervously.

A small worry formed in Harry's mind. _Please let me be reading too much into that. The_ last _thing I need is a jealous Daphne this year._

Fleur at last got it out. "Would you…be willing…to…teach me?" She didn't look him in the eye.

Harry had to make a conscious effort to keep walking. _That…was unexpected._ "Why?" he blurted before his mind could catch his mouth.

Fleur hesitated to answer. She offered him, "I…need to learn the Patronus. And you are the first I've known to cast the final Patronus. Not even my parents can do it." She didn't explain further.

This development caught Harry's attention. Dozens of potential reasons flashed in his mind at once, ranging from the mundane to the fantastical. Could it have something to do with her Veela heritage? Maybe Dementors or Lethifolds were a problem in France? The corporeal Patronus was effective against most of the extremely dark magical creatures out there. This left Harry wondering what creature she'd encountered that required such a shield.

He soon left those ponderings. He could see that Fleur would provide him nothing else, so he didn't waste time asking. Instead, he focused on the logistics teaching her would require. He would easily have the time since he'd taken his N.E.W.T.s over the summer. He also doubted the tournament would eat up too much time thanks to his memories. He'd no doubt he could teach her either. Jasmine, Tonks, and Daphne's skills attested to his teaching ability. The needed privacy was easy to find as well. He could use the Room of Requirement or even the Chamber of Secrets if need be.

He would need to run it by his girls, but he saw no reason to deny her. Daphne may throw a tantrum but she'd come around no problem. Fleur seemed to believe she genuinely needed the knowledge too.

He reasoned, _The more people who can do it, the less strength Riddle's dark allies will have._ His mind made up, he nodded. "Sure. I can show you how to do it."

Fleur brightened so much she resembled Gabrielle in that moment. She sprouted a wide, joyful smile that would have floored a lesser man. "Thank you, Harry." She made to kiss his cheek, but he stopped her with a finger on her lips. She retreated. "I forget, at times, the British are…"

"Prudes?" he finished. She nodded. "A lot are," he said. "I'm not, I assure you. I would just rather not deal with Sirius if he saw that. He's insufferable enough as it is." _And a pissed off Daphne_ , he added silently.

Fleur, unaffected, accepted his reasoning with an understanding nod. She said, "Papa can be so… _agaçant_ as well."

"I'm going to assume that means 'frustrating' in French?"

"Close. 'Irritating' is the word I believe in English."

Suddenly, Harry felt a shift in the magic covering the fields they were walking through. He looked to the sky, focusing on the wards. They'd been altered. Tainted. He reached out with his magic and confirmed his suspicions.

 _The Death Eaters are here._

Harry fought back his desire for revenge on the Death Eater's he'd fought in Hogsmeade. Giving into that now would only put everyone in danger. Instead, he closed his eyes and felt the ambient magic shift dark to the west, far from the Potter campsite.

Harry stopped walking, surprising Fleur. She turned to say something but he cut her off. "Fleur." She froze at how cold he was. "Catch up with Sirius. Tell him I was right and I've gone to keep it contained. He'll see you three to safety."

He then turned and sprinted towards the Death Eaters. Fleur said something to him, but he didn't hear. He was focused on the task at hand.

With a flick of his wrist, his wand fell into his hand.

 _It's time_ , he grinned maniacally, _to get started. Things won't go the same tonight, Tom._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

People and colors blurred by Harry's vision as he sprinted.

Panic hadn't set in yet for the attendees, so the Death Eater attack must not have started yet. Harry counted that as a win. Panic does more damage than the Death Eaters could on their own.

His mind was in overdrive, plotting strategies and possible tactical adjustments for when he arrived. He had no doubt he could affect the landscape and ensure it favored him, so he instead focused on which Death Eaters he believed would be there.

As he knew it, there were four active Death Eaters who were part of Voldemort's inner circle, and Harry already knew where each would be tonight. The de facto mastermind, Lucius Malfoy, wouldn't risk capture, so he'd be nowhere near the action when it happened. Harry would be shocked if Lucius and his family hadn't left the World Cup the second it wouldn't be considered rude to Fudge.

The Death Eaters in his world were far more dangerous than the ones his other self faced. One major difference was that only Voldemort's most trusted followers received a full Dark Mark. However, not all of his lieutenants were given a visible Mark. Malfoy was one such follower, as Voldemort valued his influence in the Ministry too much to risk compromising his public status. Based on Riddle's memories, Harry knew of only two others with that type of Dark Mark, and both had since revealed their allegiance to the Dark Lord publicly.

The first of the two had been Bartemis Crouch Jr., revealed in the same way as his other self had seen in Dumbledore's memories. The difference this time was that Crouch's Dark Mark had been invisible until he'd told the world whom he served. Crouch had then been sent to Azkaban until his eventual escape last year with Bellatrix.

Harry had his suspicions as to how they both had gone about their escape. Likely, it involved Malfoy's money and the third and final secret lieutenant.

The last lieutenant had been a shock to Harry when he'd found that memory. How deep the lieutenant's adoration of Voldemort went shook the Potter family to the very core when it had been discovered. The fact this man had been the one to rat out the Potter family's Fidelius charm made Harry's blood boil.

"There he is," Peter Pettigrew boasted as Harry arrived. "What did I tell you, Bella? Right on time."

Harry snarled, more for Pettigrew than the other two Death Eaters.

Peter Pettigrew had always been Voldemort's left hand. Even as far back as his Hogwarts days. He'd sought out the Dark Lord early in his second year and begged for power, and Voldemort gave it to him. Sealed with an Unbreakable Vow that was almost unnecessary, Pettigrew became Voldemort's double agent, feeding him information about the Order of the Phoenix until the night James Potter, a man who had considered Pettigrew one of his closest friends, was murdered. Not once had anyone suspected Pettigrew's treachery, and it had nearly cost magical Britain the war.

Sirius and Lupin had, after confirming Lily and the Potter children were safe, set out for Peter's blood once they realized his betrayal. The three had fought and destroyed an abandoned countryside town, but Pettigrew had bested the pair and escaped with barely a scratch.

The battle cost the two friends dearly. Both had been hit with dark, cursed magic Pettigrew had learned from his master. Those curses still affected both to this very day. Sirius, luckily, hadn't lost anything he couldn't live without according to him. Lupin, however, had been cursed to forever stalk the night as a wolf. Ever since, no one had seen or heard from Remus Lupin. Sirius had gone on hundreds of expeditions to find his friend, but to no avail. To everyone, it was as if Lupin had vanished.

Pettigrew was the most wanted man in magical Britain for the last thirteen years, and he'd avoided capture easily in that time. Nobody knew where he'd hidden, though Harry of course had a few ideas. Scabbers had never come to Percy Weasley, so Harry was certain he'd gone to ground either overseas or with another Death Eater. Hogsmeade, three months ago, had been his first appearance since fighting Sirius and Lupin.

Bellatrix Lestrange cackled in response to Pettigrew. "Right again, Wormtail! And lookie! He's even alone again!"

Barty Crouch Jr. licked his lips. "I've been waiting for this," he said, madness in his eyes.

Harry quickly took in the battleground. Luckily, they were in a relatively secluded area of field, so that would minimize the chances of someone getting caught in the crossfire. Dealing with three of the top Death Eaters would require all of his concentration. Not having to keep track of bystanders would make it easier on him. Around the area were rocks, chairs, and tables strewn around. It looked like whoever had been camping in this area had packed up in a hurry.

A worry wormed into his mind. _Where are all the others?_ he wondered. _These three can't be the entire strike force._ The three in front of him could dole out serious carnage on their own, but they'd never do enough to matter until they met the authorities. _Unless…_ Harry nearly cursed. _The rest are elsewhere waiting to start._

He'd gotten arrogant again. Tonks and Daphne had warned him dozens of times to not always be so certain in his gut. He'd been certain the entire Death Eater force would be together. Instead, he'd been baited in and couldn't impede the actual attack. Crouch, Bellatrix, and Pettigrew could keep him occupied long enough for the strike force to cause enough mayhem. And he'd fallen for the bait hook, line, and sinker.

Harry hadn't thought the Death Eaters would center their entire plan on him, but it looked like his last fight left quite the impression. Luckily, Tonks and Daphne gave him a signal he could send that would tell them something went awry.

With a mumble of " _Morsmordre_ " he hung two Dark Marks in the sky, shocking the three Death Eaters with him. He knew it would cause mass confusion and probably get a few people hurt, but it would at least alert his girls and the aurors present of the attack. All he could do now is hope everyone reacted in time to prevent too many casualties.

Pettigrew looked at him. The rat chuckled. "Clever, Harry." He then slashed his wand through the air and sent the killing curse his way.

Harry levitated a chair from the ground and used it to block the curse. The wooden furniture shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. With a wave of his wand, he banished the splinters at all three of his opponents.

Crouch vanished the projectiles and Bellatrix sent her favorite spell, the Cruciatus curse, at Harry. Pettigrew joined in with a few quick, silent hexes at him as well.

Harry rolled under the red torture curse roaring through the air. As he rolled, he summoned a _Protego_ shield to eat the hexes. The four small flashes of light hit the shield, making it shimmer in the air. Harry dropped the shield to preserve every drop of magic he could. Precision would be key to fighting three very competent duelists.

His eyes never stopped moving, constantly darting between the three foes faster than even a hawk's. If this were a one-on-one duel with any of them, he had no doubt he could quickly end the fight and move on to the assault in earnest. With these three though, he had to constantly divide his attention and ensure none of them could flank him. To do this, he used the spell he developed specifically for such a situation. With a mumble, he forced his innate magic to start pouring out of his body and saturate the air itself around them. This new ability let him feel the magic in the air and always feel where everyone was, but it was incredibly taxing. Even with his tremendous magical reserves, he could only hold that ability for fifteen minutes with an area as large as this, and he would be completely spent once it was over.

He couldn't afford to fight defensively.

That had been his mistake in Hogsmeade. He'd been too preoccupied with not letting them pass him, so he never risked going on the offensive. He'd kept all three in his line of sight at all times, and they'd taken advantage of him.

Now he didn't need to worry about that. He knew where everyone would be. He could go on the attack.

And so he did.

Harry apparated away from a yellow spell Crouch sent and reappeared a dozen yards behind the Death Eaters. Crouch reacted in time to keep Harry from casting anything truly powerful, but Harry had enough time to cast a few hexes. Crouch deflected most of them, but Harry's cutting spell sliced into his right knee. Crouch grunted in pain and fell to his knee. His robe was sliced clean through, showing his pale leg and blood dribbling from the fresh gash.

Harry didn't have time to press his advantage though, as both Bellatrix and Pettigrew moved to Crouch's side. They formed a defensive shield while Crouch numbed the pain and froze the wound over. Both standing Death Eaters were sending a colorful barrage of spells at Harry, which he avoided with another timely apparition. As he appeared, he sent a couple minor curses that he didn't expect to hit.

He continued this strategy for a few moments. He was able to sneak a number of hits through their defenses, scoring a few welts and slices on all three Death Eaters. As he moved, he apparated in seemingly random locations to keep from being predictable. Crouch was standing again and they formed a triangle defensive formation, their backs to each other. They tried to return fire, but Harry always vanished before they could hit him.

Harry was keeping close count of precisely where he was apparating to in order to make sure a pattern didn't develop. A few times, he feigned a pattern, which the Death Eaters always fell for, and broke the pattern right when they moved to score a prediction hit. With each of those, Harry smacked the one who'd reached out too far with as nasty a spell he could manage in the few seconds between apparations. He hit Bellatrix first, Pettigrew second, Bellatrix a second time, and Crouch one final time. Pettigrew's side was bleeding profusely from the slicing curse, Bellatrix's left arm was shattered below the elbow and hung limp, and Crouch's knee wound was bleeding through again due to Harry's blood-thinning spell.

Harry could soon feel his constant magic usage start to drain him, so he switched tactics. He knew he couldn't let them get on the offensive. He apparated one last time across the way from them. Once he stopped, he immediately started casting spells with a wider radius so that it would press on all three of them at once.

While they focused on shielding themselves, he snuck a trio of _Conjunctivitis_ curses through. Pettigrew and Bellatrix managed to react in time, but Crouch, slowed by his would, was not so lucky. With a wail, Crouch covered his eyes.

Pettigrew snarled. "Get out!" he screamed. "He'll tear you to pieces!"

Crouch almost hesitated, but he acquiesced. With a small nod, he activated his escape portkey.

Harry smirked. _One down._ He never acknowledged the rivers of sweat pouring from his forehead or the heavy heaving of his chest. Droplets of water fell from his hear to the ground. _Now for the bigger ones._

Harry pointed his wand at the ground and cast a silent _Bombarda_. The ground beneath him exploded in a shower of dust and debris that obscured everyone's vision.

He ignored the new cuts he gained form the explosion. He could seal those later. Now, he had to press his advantage while he had it. He mumbled, " _Gemino projectura_ ," and cast a spell he'd crafted for a situation like this.

Three solid-looking copies of Harry – dirt, cuts, sweat and all – stood around him in the dust could. Harry swapped places with one of the copies to help prevent his foes from figuring out which he was. To any observer, they were another Harry. To Harry, they were distractions meant only to hold their attention for an instant.

It worked.

When Bellatrix and Pettigrew banished the dust, they hesitated.

Harry pounced.

Before they could blink, he apparated behind them, casted a supersensory charm on them both, and shouted into a _Sonorous_. Their magically-enhanced sense absorbed the titanic shout, both shrieking in agony as their eardrums burst.

Harry jumped back to avoid Bellatrix's wild counter, but she got a solid hit to his chest. His breath left him and he felt a few ribs crack. The spell pushed him into the air and flung him fifty feet backward.

He twisted in the air and hit the ground hard, tumbling another twenty feet. He crashed through a few stray chairs and tent canvas. He stopped spinning when his back met a sturdy rock that didn't give.

Harry groaned in pain, but he knew he couldn't afford to stay down. He stood shakily, his vision swimming but not so much it would disorient him. He quickly readied to cast a shield to defend against the expected barrage of spells. But none came.

Instead, both Death Eaters snarled at him. He would see thick trails of blood trailing from their ears. It appeared his strategy worked. They couldn't heal their deafness in time before Harry attacked again. Both sent the killing curse at him, but he easily blocked them with some detritus laying near him.

Harry sent a few stunners at them and they shielded themselves. After that, there was a brief lull where both sides glared at each other. Bellatrix with her mad sadism, Harry with his utter enmity for both Death Eaters, and Pettigrew with an enraged flex of his neck.

Bellatrix made to fling another curse at him, but Pettigrew grabbed her wrist. She sent an enraged stare at her partner. Pettigrew mouthed a few words that Harry couldn't see from this distance. He then gestured to their necks and pulled out a small nail on a chain around his neck. She grunted but nodded with a huff.

They both then grabbed their portkeys and vanished.

Harry waited a moment before easing out of his battle mindset. The tension left his body and his energy with it. He suddenly felt like he was carrying an anchor on each shoulder.

He stopped his magic's flow over the area to spare everything he had left. His enemies were much worse off than him, but it had taken nearly all of his magic to do that. He was running on fumes now, and that wouldn't last him long.

 _I can't…let them get away like that_ , he thought through the fog in his head. He trudged across the battlefield, each step taking a conscious effort. It took all of his will to not fall over. _Daphne's going to give me one hell of a lecture_ , he thought with a wry grin. _But I won_.

Once he made it to where Bellatrix and Pettigrew had disappeared, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Portkeys were almost impossible to track without the portkey registry. Luckily, he made a habit of redefining 'impossible'. It wasn't easy, but he felt the portkeys' residual magic in the air. With it, he could _feel_ the direction and distance of the portkey's destination.

 _Two hundred kilometers_ , he felt. _South. No. Southwest._ With that in mind, he apparated to where his family's campsite was. Of course, nobody was there now. _Shit._ Everyone had already left.

Feeling his consciousness beginning to slip, he summoned his Patronus. "Find anyone," he instructed. "I'm at the campsite. Tell Sirius this: Two-hundred kilometers southwest. Send every auror possible. That's where their porkeys are letting out." He then sent the Patronus on its way.

Harry glanced around and saw no one near. "Good," he mumbled. "Everyone got evacuated in time, it looks like."

He then grabbed the softest material he could find and put it on the ground in front of him.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell onto the pillow he'd found, his mind blank.


End file.
